


Pasta

by axelsrose



Series: GTAV Drabbles [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Failed cooking attempt, How does Trevor feed himself, M/M, NO ONE KNOWS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axelsrose/pseuds/axelsrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor and Mike decide to cook, they soon realize that it’s not the best idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pasta

After an almost futile attempt at cleaning the kitchen section of the trailer, Michael had suggested that they actually cook for once instead of just ordering junk food. It’s not like Michael didn’t  _ like  _ the junk food, but it’d been weeks since he’d eaten anything that wasn’t pizza or donuts and he was beginning to grow sick of the taste of both. Trevor had reluctantly agreed, mostly just to shut Michael up, even though he had argued he had never cooked in his life. 

Surely they couldn’t fuck up something as simple as pasta. 

Well. That was the  _ expectation _ . 

The  _ reality  _ was a burning pot of pasta and Michael trying to furiously put the flames out with a filthy towel before resorting to throwing the pan into the sink to douse it with water. “Turned my back for two minutes and you somehow set the pasta on fire.” Michael scolded, looking over at Trevor with an almost accusing look and motioning a hand to the now soggy charcoaled pasta. 

“I warned you.” Trevor replied simply from the table he was sat on, swinging his legs as he took a swig from the lukewarm beer bottle. “Never cooked in my life. But did you listen? No, of course not.” 

“It’s  _ PASTA _ !” Michel shouted, motioning at the smoldering pot. “Pasta! How the fuck can you burn pasta?!” 

“Easily,  _ we just did _ .” Trevor took a final gulp from the bottle and tossed it into the corner, retrieving another from the box beside him and holding it out to the other man who was currently blowing a gasket over burnt pasta. Michael took the bottle and cracked it open, downing half of it in a few gulps. It was horribly lukewarm but to deal with Trevor, he needed it. “You can cook meth, but not  _ pasta _ .” Mike shot, pointing the beer bottle at his best friend. “Meth, but not pasta!” 

“Shut the fuck up Mikey.” Trevor retorted, already grabbing his own beer and moving onto the couch, dragging Mike by the arm to sit down with him. “We can just order pizza.”  Reluctantly, Michael collapsed onto the filthy uncomfortable couch next to him, shaking his head.

“Fuck your pizza.” 


End file.
